One Hundred Facts
by Chirugal
Summary: One hundred  fanon  facts about Gibbs... all of them Abby-centric. Gibbs/Abby drabble-length snippets. Obviously, the word 'fact' is used creatively, since I'm making most of them up!
1. Fact 1

**Title**: One Hundred Facts**  
Rating**: Varies… but I think we can safely say it'll go all the way to NC-17.**  
Spoilers**: I'll warn as chapters go on.**  
Summary**: One hundred (fanon) facts about Gibbs… all of them Abby-centric. Drabble-length snippets.

**Author's Note**: Blame ncislove for this one… she has a Twitter account for her cardboard cut-out of Gibbs, and there was a hashtag called '#100factsaboutme'. Some silly Gabby-related conversation later, she came up with the hashtag '#100factsaboutme thatyoushouldwrite' (split out into two words because this site edits out words that have too many letters). So… this is the result of that. XD And yep, I do plan to get up to a hundred.

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**Fact #1: Gibbs first met Abby in the elevator.**

Gibbs stares at the elevator doors, willing them to open. It's been a long three hours without a caffeine hit, and he's feeling the lack more than usual today. The chime of the elevator is a welcome sound, and he steps forward into the tiny, mobile room, keeping to one corner to give the other occupant some space.

He doesn't realise the other occupant is wearing pigtails and knee socks until the doors have closed. Out of the corner of his eye, he can make out a tattoo, though it's too small for him to see what it is.

She doesn't seem to be wearing an NCIS visitor's pass.

She catches him looking, and turns his way with a slight smile. "I'm Abby. I'm new here… I'm Dr. Rawlins' replacement. Don't worry; I'm not some random girl who just walked in off the street."

He takes the hand she offers, amused. "Special Agent Gibbs."

"I just got out of a meeting with Director Morrow," she says, though he hasn't asked. "I'm dying for a pick-me-up. Know anywhere with decent coffee around here?"

Seems like he's stuck with her all the way to the coffee shop. Surprisingly, it doesn't bother him as much as it should. "I'm on my way to grab some. Tag along, if you want."

"Cool. Is that the place down the street?"

He nods, and she brightens, her pigtails bouncing into life as they leave the elevator. "They have this new drink I've been dying to try out. It's called Caf-Pow!. Apparently it makes Red Bull seem like watered-down tea in the caffeine stakes..."


	2. Fact 2

**Author's Note**: Thank you so much to those of you who are on board with this one! :D I'm excited. And I managed to finish my unofficial NaNoWriMo (50,000 words in 30 days), so I now have half a novel written... and a need to take a break from it for a couple of days. So I'm back on the fanfic!

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**Fact #2: The first case Abby worked for Gibbs was a gunshot fatality in Fairfax, VA.**

"You know, I appreciate that you bought me a drink yesterday, but hovering over me isn't gonna get you results any faster, Agent Gibbs."

She looks over her shoulder to where Gibbs is waiting, sipping his coffee. He stares her out until she looks away uncomfortably.

He doesn't usually come down to the labs, preferring to let his team bring the findings to him, but he's sceptical about this new girl's abilities. The way she's dressed… why is the Director allowing it? And what exactly is she listening to right now? It's sure as hell not music.

"You sure you can concentrate with all this noise?" His words are almost lost in the din, but she manages to hear him.

"My music helps me concentrate. You know what _doesn't_ help me concentrate? When people make me feel pressured by hanging around and questioning my work methods." She doesn't turn around, but her ramrod-straight back and swinging pigtails are enough of an indicator of her annoyance. "In fact, I have a rebellious streak that actually makes me work slower."

"How long?" he asks, relenting.

"About an hour for the bullets to finish running through the system. If I get anything else, I have your email address, and I will mail it up to you the second I get it."

He grabs the blank notepad on the desk and scribbles down his cell phone number, heading it with 'Gibbs'. Tearing the bottom third from the page, he presses it into her hand. "Rule number thirty-two: never email me."

"Thirty-two? How many rules do you have?" She looks from the phone number up into his face, seeming more curious than pissed off.

"Around fifty. You'll learn 'em as you go." He strides out of the lab, not sticking around to listen to her assessment of the situation.

A little under an hour later, his cell rings, and he picks up with a terse, "Yeah, Gibbs."

"It's Abby. You can either come back down here, or else I'll give you what you need to know on the phone."

For some reason, he feels drawn to her. "Be down in a minute."


	3. Fact 3

**Author's Note**: Yeah, I think I can safely say I suck at updating everything at the moment. I've had a lot of proofreading work to do recently, and the novel was fairly squick-tastic, so it's kind of killed my desire to write. This is me attempting to dip my toes back in the Gabby water. Bear with me! And for those of you who are waiting for me to email you the fics I've taken down... I haven't forgotten about you. I'm just procrastinating, and will get to it soon, I promise!

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**Fact #3: It took Abby around two weeks to really make Gibbs grin.**

"Abby?" Gibbs glances around as he walks into her domain, finding no trace of her in the outer lab. Her music blares just as loud as usual, battering his eardrums, and he makes a beeline for her stereo, turning the volume knob to the lowest possible setting.

"Hey!"

A familiar head pops up from underneath her desk, and Gibbs notices the piles of wires strewn around the floor for the first time. Abby's face wears a disgruntled frown, and she shakes her head, her pigtails swaying. "Don't mess with my music, Gibbs! Do I walk into _your_ office and turn down _your_ stereo?"

Something about her irritated face reminds him of the hamster Kelly had once looked after, while her best friend was vacationing in California. When its bedding was poked, the rodent would sit up in a hurry, poking its face out of the nest of paper and glaring at the human who dared to disturb its sleep.

Sensing a similar air about Abby, he can't help but grin, glancing out toward the hallway to try to hide it.

"Hmm. Was that a genuine smile I just saw?" She gets to her feet, tilting her head to one side to analyse him.

Shrugging, he beckons her toward her outer lab, and the bagged evidence he left on the table. "I don't have an office, or a stereo. Need you to test this for me."

She adjusts her music volume before joining him, though it's at a slightly less ear-splitting level. She's smiling as though he's just shared an intimate secret with her. "It's okay. I won't tell anyone you have a sense of humour."

Taking the evidence from him, she examines it, all business as she asks exactly what he needs. It's not until he turns to leave that she brings it up again. "Seriously, Gibbs. This is my lab. My word is law. Don't touch my stereo."

"I'll try and remember that," he says, amused.

Over the next few years, he keeps it in mind... for the most part.


	4. Fact 4

**Author's Note**: So I figured that if I was going to get to 100 by the time the world ends, I should probably update a little faster. XD Thank you for reading, everyone!

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**Fact #4: Within a month, Gibbs was defending Abby's honour.**

Once Abby gets comfortable within her lab, she begins to venture out into the rest of the Navy Yard to give her reports, craving a change of scenery. Burley, Gibbs' second-in-command, was on a three-week vacation in Europe when Abby started at NCIS, and their introduction happens in the squad room on the day he returns.

"So, I ran the blood on the knife handle-" As Burley approaches, she breaks off, looking from Gibbs to the new arrival. "Hi."

"Special Agent Stan Burley." With a smile, he offers his hand, which she shakes.

"Forensic Scientist Abby Sciuto. Nice to meet you."

Gibbs clears his throat, drawing their attention to the fact that he's still waiting for her report.

"Sorry. So, anyway..." She lays out the evidence, only deviating from the point once, and returning to it upon noticing his raised eyebrow.

Once she's done, he nods his approval. "Good work, Abby."

"I'll call you when I have more," she says, and shoots a final inquisitive glance Burley's way before heading for the elevator.

Burley returns to his desk, waiting until she's out of earshot to comment, "Wow. A Goth scientist. Now I've seen it all. I bet she's into all kinds of hinky stuff in the sack-"

"Mind your own business, Steve," Gibbs says sharply, and his agent gives a sheepish nod, turning his attention to his computer. It's gotten to the point that he doesn't even bother to remind Gibbs that his name isn't Steve any more.

Not that Gibbs needs the reminder. Pretending to forget his name is a good way to keep Burley's ego in check. And if he goes anywhere near Abby after talking about her that way, Gibbs is gonna be keeping tabs on more than just Stan's ego.

_She's a grown woman_, he reminds himself. _Let her fight her own battles._

All he knows is that he doesn't want Stan Burley getting any further than professionally interested in Abby's life. Why that is, he's choosing not to examine too closely.


	5. Fact 5

**Author's Note**: Just a quick one! :)

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**Fact #5: Gibbs first began to idly think of Abby in a sexual way after hearing her talk cars.**

Gibbs is leaving the Navy Yard for the evening when he hears a familiar voice cursing. Glancing across the parking lot, he spots Abby's distinctive rear end hanging out of the back of her hearse.

Smothering a smile – and the urge to check her out – he approaches, calling her name. She glances behind her, her disgruntled expression turning to distracted friendliness as she realises who's there. "Oh, hey Gibbs."

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah." She crawls back out of the hearse, holding a spanner aloft. "Just having a little car trouble."

"Need me to take a look?"

Smiling, she shakes her head, skirting round to the front of the giant vehicle again and opening the already popped hood. "I've been working on her for about five years now. She's just temperamental."

As he watches, she makes a few quick adjustments under the hood and then slips into the driver's seat to test her handiwork, smearing her cheek with engine grease in the process. The engine coughs, then catches, and Abby smiles, tossing the spanner back in the back and closing the hood. "See? Good as new."

"This happen a lot?" he asks, resisting the urge to wipe the grease from her cheek. Much of his youth was spent under the hoods of cars, and there are few things that impress him more about a woman than a way with engines.

She laughs. "Couple of times a week."

"Ever thought about getting a new car?" He eyes the clunky old hearse dubiously.

"I'm saving up for a hot rod." Her expression lights with enthusiasm, and he can't help but smile back. "I don't have a lot of expendable income at the moment, but I'm taking baby steps. Until I have enough, I'm gonna stick with Annie, here."

Before he can reply, her cell phone rings, and she slides back into the hearse with an apologetic glance at him. "I gotta take this. See you tomorrow, Gibbs."

As she answers the phone, he heads back over to his own car with a shake of his head. She just keeps surprising him.


	6. Fact 6

**Author's Note**: Written for Gabby Tuesday on the forum. The prompt was 'marine'.

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**Fact #6: When Abby learned that Gibbs used to be a marine, her reaction gave him a lot to think about…**

"You were a marine? Seriously?" Abby is intrigued enough to turn from her microscope entirely, and she looks him over as if seeing him in a new light.

"Yeah. Seventy-six till ninety-two," he says, shrugging. "Why so surprised?"

She smiles, shrugging right back at him. "I dunno. Now that I think about it, I'm not. Was it cool? Having platoons full of people calling you 'sir'?"

Gibbs can't help but laugh. "How far up the chain do you think I got, Abby?"

Abby spins back to her computer, tapping something into a search program. After a couple of seconds, his service record flashes up on-screen. "Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Still a reservist, huh? Guess you can take the man out of the marines, but…"

"You cheated," he points out, secretly impressed by her resourcefulness.

"I didn't realise it was a test." A mischievous glint in her eye, she cocks her head at him. "Still have the uniform?"

He takes a sip of his coffee, and when he speaks, his voice is slightly rough from the bitter liquid. "Yup."

"Hmm." She waits a beat, and then winks. "Bet the ladies love that."

Without giving him time to react, she spins and calls up her microscope slide on the plasma screen mounted on the wall. "Anyway. Take a look at this."

While she explains the anomaly she's found, and what it means for his case, Gibbs studies her expressive face and body language. She's fairly easy to read, if he asks the right questions, and when she's done, he decides he'll allow himself just one.

"You got a thing for men in uniform, Abby?"

She doesn't even try to hide it, her smile widening. "Well, _yeah_…"

Amused, he turns and heads for the door. "Hmm."

He hears a husky giggle as he presses the button to call the elevator, and is simultaneously glad and disappointed he chose not to stick around to question her further.


	7. Fact 7

**Author's Note**: For the prompt 'family' at the Gabby forum.**  
**

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**Fact #7: Gibbs discovered he and Abby had a certain skill in common around four months into their professional relationship.**

The music level in the lab is ear-splitting, and Gibbs has to yell to make himself heard – again.

"Abby!"

She doesn't hear him, and her expression is completely serene. How she isn't wincing with pain, Gibbs will never understand.

He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she jumps half out of her skin, spinning with wide eyes to face him. "Gibbs!"

"Turn the damn music down!"

She lip-reads rather than hears him, and makes a series of familiar gestures before doing as he asks. It's been a while since he's practiced his ASL skills, and her hands move quickly, but he manages to make out something about keeping his pants on.

Not that he's thought about taking his pants off in Abby's presence. That would be ridiculous, not to mention unprofessional.

And if he ever manages to delude himself into thinking that, he'll give himself a medal.

"Sorry. I wasn't expecting you. You usually have really good timing and show up when I have stuff for you, but I don't have anything yet."

He tries a guess in ASL, a little uncertainly. _You have deaf friends?_

She blinks, and then her eyes light up and she responds in the same silent language. _My mom and dad are both deaf. I grew up not having to worry about how loud my music was._

There's more, but he doesn't catch it – he's rusty, and she's certainly not. "I'm not as good at this as you are. It's been a while."

Grinning, she drops her hands and switches to her voice. "How much did you get?"

"Your deaf parents never had to go through the hell you put my ears through," he sums up wryly.

"That's a creative interpretation of what I said, but close enough. I also asked you how _you_ know ASL and why you didn't tell me." She leans back against her counter, watching him with curious eyes.

"One of the men in my squad was deafened out in the Gulf. We all learned with him."

It hadn't been the best of times – and soon after, Gibbs' first wife and daughter had been murdered to stop them testifying against a Mexican drug cartel member in court. He'd sustained serious injuries as a result of running out into no man's land in a fog of grief… but the ASL he'd learned beforehand stuck in his mind. He still meets with the ex-private on occasion.

"Aww. That's sweet." It was a genuine compliment, and he shrugged it off with a slight smile.

"And I didn't tell you because I didn't know you knew."

Abby takes a second to process that for a second, and then nods. "Then I'll forgive you. But I still don't know what you came down here for. It'll be a while before-"

Something beeps, and she turns to frown at one of the machines across the room. "How did you know I was gonna get something, Gibbs?"

"Didn't."

"You must have! You have this scary sense of timing, and now you're communing directly with my machines? That's impressive on a whole new level-"

"Abby."

She looks around at him, and he signs rather than speaks. _What's the result?_

She grins. "I can tell you by signing if you want, but I'll have to finger-spell all the compounds and it could take a while."

"Let's skip that, then."

"Good call."


	8. Fact 8

**Author's Note**: I thought I'd chip away at another one of these. I'll get to 100 eventually!

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**Fact #8: Gibbs assigned a nickname to Abby at the same moment she gave him the first of many hugs.**

"_Gibbs!_"

He's barely two feet into her lab when Abby rushes to his side, grabbing his shoulders and hurriedly checking him for bullet-holes. He hasn't even had time to come to terms with her anxious expression when she throws her arms around his neck, hugging him with the easy familiarity of a lifelong friend.

Gibbs isn't sure what compels him to embrace her in return, rocking back slightly to compensate for her weight against him. Later, he'll narrow it down to the way her entire body is moulded against his, the scent of her perfume and the brush of her pigtailed hair against his face and neck, but in the immediate moment all he can do is react.

"Stan said something about you getting shot at today, and I misheard him and thought he'd said you'd actually been _shot_, and—"

"Easy, Abbs. I'm okay." Once he's gotten past the initial surprise of her extreme reaction, he can't help but smile, giving her a light squeeze before dropping his arms from around her waist.

She takes the hint and steps back, then adds an extra pace to the distance between them, surprising him. "I'm glad you're not hurt. Sorry for the hug; I'm usually better at the professional distance thing. Though I've never misheard that one of my favourite colleagues has been shot before… Anyway. What do you need?"

Without waiting for his reaction, she spins and heads back towards her workbench, her posture a little rigid, as though she's overcompensating for her lack of restraint earlier.

"Appreciate the concern," he tells her, and waits a moment for the words to sink in. When the beginnings of a smile curve the corners of her mouth, he moves on, instinctively shying away from prolonging the moment.

It wouldn't be professional to prolong it.

He waits for her to finish relaying her findings, then touches her shoulder lightly on the way from the plasma screen to the elevator. "Good work, Abby."

"Thanks."

Just as he reaches the doorway, she speaks his name, a little quizzically. He turns, expectant.

"Did you call me _Abbs_ earlier?"

He hadn't realised he'd given her a nickname. It's less of a breach of professionalism than her hug, but more than he'd usually make in less than six months of working with a colleague.

Something about her relaxes him, even as other things make him impatient, bewildered, amused, protective…

"That a problem?" he asks.

Abby's slight frown dissolves into a grin. "No. I just wanted to be sure I wasn't mishearing again."

"See you later, Abbs." He turns and resumes his course towards the elevator, mentally berating himself for the uncharacteristic affection he feels for her.

"Bye!" she calls to his retreating back, and he hears a rattle of ice cubes over her music as she returns to her oversized soft drink.

The elevator doors close, sealing Gibbs into temporary solitude. He runs a hand through his hair, unsure exactly what's going on in his mind, or Abby's—or if it's something he wants to encourage.

The memories of her anxiety and relief decide him. He hasn't seen anyone that concerned for his safety since before his last divorce, and it's not something he can easily push away.

Hell, he doesn't even know if he wants to.


	9. Fact 9

**Author's Note**: Yay! Almost in double figures for this fic. At this rate, I might manage to get to fact #100 in about another eight years!

Also, I promise I do plan another round of emailing people who've asked for Sir/Little Tease Gabby versions soon. I tend to set them aside and go 'I'll answer that later' and suddenly it's three months later. *sigh* Give me another email at chirugal at hotmail dot com (PMs on this site censor out email addresses, by the way) if you want to make sure I don't miss you out. Anyway, the non-Gabby conversion of the Sir/Little Tease 'verse (Dominance and Deception) is nominated as Best Erotic BDSM Romance 2011 at The Romance Reviews - how awesome is that? I kind of feel like even though it's no longer a Gabby fic, it's a victory for the Gabby pairing. ;) Anyway, if you'd like to vote (and you don't have to - it's fine!) you can sign up for a free account at theromancereviews dot com and vote until 31st March 2012. ^_^

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**Fact #9: Around five months into her employment, Gibbs realised bribery might not get him everywhere, but it would guarantee him a happy Abby while he waited.**

In a murder case, the first twenty-four hours are critical. This is a fact that's drummed into every cop ever trained, and Gibbs is never more aware of it than when the murder victim's child could also be in danger. While Burley and Balboa take over guard duty of the six-year-old and social worker up in the conference room, Gibbs descends the stairs into Abby's realm two at a time.

"Anything yet?"

She spins and smiles a welcome, but he's too caught up in the case to bother with social niceties. She catches on quickly and begins to give him a rundown of everything she knows, which isn't necessarily everything he _needs_ to know, but a hell of a lot more than he _wants_ to about chemical compounds.

"Just get to the point, Abby." Even as he snaps the words, he knows they sound way too harsh.

She scowls, hiding her obvious hurt with anger. "Fingerprints – nothing. Fibres – generic, but I can match specific samples to them. Blood type – O positive. Weird substance on the door handle – running through the mass spectrometer, but it could take another hour or so. DNA will take another six to eight hours to run, at least. As we have discussed previously, I can't do anything about that. Is there anything else I can do for you, Special Agent Gibbs?"

He sighs and attempts a reconciliation, but apologies have never come easily to him. "No. Abby…"

Abby spins and heads into her inner lab, scooping up an evidence bag on the way. Passing her stereo, she cranks up the volume so high that conversation would be impossible, and in order for her to read his ASL gestures she'd have to look at him. Which she won't, in her current state of pique.

He shakes his head and returns to the squad room, frustrated with the case's slow progression and his own misstep with Abby. Grabbing his wallet, he informs Burley, who's returned to his desk, that he's going out. Then he heads for the coffee shop down the street.

As he waits in line for his caffeine fix, his mind lingers on the lively forensic scientist. She's usually pretty quick to forgive on her own, but something makes him want to reach out to her. For the millionth time, he brushes aside an analysis of what that might be.

The logo for her favourite drink catches his eye as he steps up to the counter, and an idea dawns. He orders a Caf-Pow! in the largest size the shop offers as well as his coffee, and feels faintly ridiculous carrying the thing back to the Navy Yard.

When he returns to the lab, Abby sees him out of the corner of her eye and her body language becomes guarded. She does turn down her music enough to a level they can converse at, though. "Still don't have anything for you, Gibbs. Go away."

"I know," he replies, and sets the giant cup down on the counter in front of her. "Call me when you do."

A few steps towards the door, he can't resist glancing back to gauge her reaction. She's picked up the drink and is staring after him with an expression of surprised pleasure. It's all he needs to see, and he leaves the lab in a brighter mood.

"So, you bought Abby a drink but not us?" Burley ventures as Gibbs approaches his desk with coffee cup in hand.

Gibbs shrugs. "Yup. What do you got?"

Over the next couple of years, Stan learns not to bother questioning it.


End file.
